


Son of a Preacher Man

by zelda_zee



Category: Kings of Leon, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-08
Updated: 2007-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 08:14:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelda_zee/pseuds/zelda_zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's eighteen when he meets the preacher's son. He and John travel to West Virginia at Leon's request to help exorcise a demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Son of a Preacher Man

**Author's Note:**

> For the purposes of this fic I have Dean encountering demons earlier than he does in canon. Kings of Leon timeline is slightly altered (only by about a year).

The first time Dean saw the preacher’s son he was standing on the little makeshift pulpit with his two brothers, playing the guitar and backing their dad up on the hymns while their mom played piano.

Dean was eighteen and he figured the kid was a few years younger. He wasn’t sure why he kept watching him in particular, except that his voice was so unexpected, coming out of a skinny kid with a pinched face and shaggy hair, wearing a white short-sleeved shirt and a tie. It was raw and brash and aggressive - not really a hymn-singing voice, even though he obviously put his heart and soul into the music. Dean watched his pale face, the little line of concentration between his brows, the way he closed his eyes when he sang and opened them in between his parts, the way a persistent lock of straight brown hair kept falling into the middle of his forehead, and how he kept brushing it back, almost like a nervous tic.

The dad was an old-style fire and brimstone preacher, the type whose voice swung from a low rumble that sent a shiver up your spine to a deafening roar as he threatened eternal damnation and almost made you believe it. The boys kept to the background, but worked the crowd all the same, calling out responses, getting the audience all fired up, reinforcing their daddy’s message. They were good little performers, but something in that middle brother’s eyes suggested that he wasn’t 100 percent with the program. He didn’t look bored, more like a part of his brain was someplace else, but Dean didn’t have any idea where that someplace else might be. And anyway, it could’ve just been a trick of the light.

The preacher, Leon, had called John a few days before, said he’d got the number from Pastor Jim. There was something strange going on in the West Virginia coal-mining community where he’d been holding his revival meetings for the past two weeks. Said he thought it was possessions. He’d tried to exorcise one of the affected girls but couldn’t manage it on his own. John seemed impressed and a little worried that he’d attempted it, even while he muttered about “goddamned amateurs.”

John had taken Dean with him when he headed east to investigate. Dean threw a shit fit at the idea of leaving Sam with a neighbor, but in the end he had to give in, like he always did. When his dad laid down the law there wasn’t anything else he could do. It was like it was programmed into him – obey Dad, take care of Sam, the only things he knew how to do in this life.

Oh, and kill evil sons of bitches. There was that too.

So he made Sam promise to mind old Mrs. Horowitz (as if he wouldn’t) and not get in trouble (as if he would), and then he clapped him on the back when he really wanted to give him a hug and climbed into the Impala with John.

He knew why his dad was making him come – making him miss his shift at the grocery store too, not that Dean really cared if he got fired. Bagging groceries wasn’t his idea of a good time. There was a girl (there was always a girl), and he knew his dad thought they were getting too serious, though half the time John thought he was out with her he was really out getting shitfaced and hustling pool down at Monroe’s where they didn’t look too closely at his fake I.D. Maybe his dad knew about that too. At any rate, he said it’d do Dean good to get out of town for a while, and Dean guessed that was about right.

It took them a night and two days to get there and when they drove into the dirt-poor backwoods town John commented that the preacher must really be there to save souls, because he sure as hell wasn’t there to get rich. The town had seen better days, that much was clear, with half the businesses on Main St. boarded up and the other half made up of bars and pawn shops. They passed a park filled with sprawling old maple trees, a grocery store and a quiet little diner before they came to the Greenbrier Motel, the only one in town.

That night they attended Leon’s prayer meeting, held in a big canvas tent on the edge of town. There were a fair number of people there and Dean figured why not? It was probably the most live entertainment this town had seen in a while.

After the sermon John went to talk to Leon and Dean went out around the back of the tent to sneak a cigarette and there was that kid he’d been watching during the sermon leaning against one of the tent poles, furtively trying to hide his own cigarette, then relaxing when he saw Dean wasn’t anyone he knew.

“Hey,” Dean said, giving him a nod.

“Hey.” His voice wasn’t as raspy when he spoke.

His fingernails were dirty and he had a smudge on his left wrist and another on his neck and up close his hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in a few days. Dean wondered where they were staying. He looked scrawny and scrappy, but there was something in his eyes that was kind of soft and sad at the same time. Lonely, thought Dean, just sensing it intuitively, though he didn’t see how the kid could be lonely, traveling around with his whole family.

“You guys put on quite a show,” Dean commented once he got his cigarette lit and took the first sweet drag.

“Thanks,” the kid said. “Name’s Caleb.” He held out his hand. Dean shook it. A firm handshake, solid and confident – an adult handshake.

“Dean.” He exhaled smoke, watched as the wind carried it away. “We got a friend named Caleb.” The kid nodded. There wasn’t much you could say to that. “Guess my dad’s got some business with your dad.”

“Yeah, the possessions,” Caleb said without batting an eye, as if possession was the most normal thing in the world. “He don’t know what’s goin’ on. Never had trouble like this before doin’ an exorcism.” He shrugged. “Maybe the ol’ man’s losin’ his touch.”

Dean looked at him incredulously. “You dad’s done exorcisms before?”

“Sure. It’s kinda in his line of work. Part of the job description, I guess.” Caleb put up his hand to shield his eyes from the sun that had just come out from behind the clouds. Dean shifted without even thinking about it so that he blocked the light and Caleb dropped his hand.

“You know, most preachers don’t do exorcisms,” Dean told him. Hell, most _priests_ didn’t even do exorcisms.

“Well, you mighta noticed, my daddy’s not ‘most preachers’.”

“Yeah, I did notice that.” Dean ground his cigarette out under his boot. “You believe all that?” He jerked his head toward the tent.

“For the Bible tells me so,” said Caleb in a soft, sing-song voice, shaking out another cigarette. Camel Straights, Dean noticed. He watched Caleb light up. “Who’m I to doubt the word of God?”

Dean shrugged. He figured Caleb had as much right to question the word of God as anyone, but he wasn’t going to say that to a preacher’s kid.

Caleb frowned at him, that little lock of straight hair falling down into his eyes again. He brushed it back with a sigh. “You ever seen an exorcism?”

Dean nodded. He’d seen a few of them but his dad had taught him not to talk about what they did, so he didn’t go into details.

“You seen demons? Evil stuff?”

“I – well – yeah, I’ve seen some things.”

“Then you gotta believe. You got demons, you gotta have angels, otherwise it don’t make sense. You got the dark, you gotta have the light. Keeps everything in balance.”

“That how your daddy explain it to you?” Dean asked. Caleb was watching him seriously and Dean realized he hadn’t seen him smile once. Caleb flattened out his lips in something that was close, but not quite there.

“Nah. My daddy, he just says you believe or you burn. He takes a more… fundamental approach.”

Dean wondered how Leon was going to get on with John. So long as he didn’t try to convert him they’d probably be okay.

“I should go,” Dean said, scuffing his toe in the dirt. “My dad doesn’t know about this.” He patted the pocket where his pack of smokes was. “Don’t want him to find out either.”

Caleb’s lip twitched. “Mine neither. He’d tan my hide but good and quote me Scripture the whole time.”

“See you,” Dean said, turning to go, then stopping and turning back. He didn’t quite meet Caleb’s eyes. “We’re staying at the motel. Room 12, if you want to hang out. We’ll probably be here a couple more days.” He tried to sound like it didn’t matter to him either way.

“Yeah? Really?” Caleb nodded, squinting at him. “Okay. Maybe I’ll stop ‘round.”

Dean didn’t really expect to see Caleb again. He didn’t even know why he’d said anything. He didn’t tend to try to make friends anymore, not beyond finding some nice, easy girl he could have a good time with and maybe a group of good ol’ boys to go carousing with once in a while. Hanging out one-on-one with the quiet, serious son of a minister wasn’t the kind of thing he did.

He figured he’d miss him anyway if he did come around, since he was off doing recon for his dad for most of the next day, but that night when Leon knocked on their motel room door Caleb was there with him. John grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair and his duffle bag with his exorcism supplies off the floor and told Dean to order a pizza and not to wait up for him and then the two men were gone, the Impala trailing behind Leon’s purple Olds and Caleb was standing awkwardly just inside the door looking like he didn’t really know if he should be there.

“You like pizza?” Dean asked.

“Everyone likes pizza,” said Caleb.

“True. What do you want on it?”

“Anything. Everything.” Caleb took a seat on the other bed. “No anchovies,” he amended.

“God, no! _No anchovies, please_.” Caleb looked at him blankly. “You probably don’t know the J. Geils Band, hunh? They wouldn’t be on your list of approved spiritual music.”

“I don’t have a list like that!”

“Bet your daddy does though. He only let you boys listen to Christian music?”

“I listen to other kinds of music,” Caleb said defensively. “Lots of other music.”

“Like what?”

Caleb’s eyes slid to the side, not looking at him and Dean figured he was right. Leon didn’t seem like the kind of man who’d let his kids listen to the devil’s music. “Um. Country, mostly. Some blues. My brothers and me’ve got a band. Or we’re _gonna_ have a band. Soon’s we get it together.” God, he sounded young. Almost as young as Sam.

Dean nodded. “Cool. So, what d’you want on your pizza?”

Hanging out with Caleb turned out to be a lot like hanging out with Sam. He ate the crusts off his pizza first like Sam, he drank one beer to every two of Dean’s like Sam, he wanted to watch a documentary about black holes when Dean wanted to watch the baseball game and he was damned serious, just like Sam. Dean had no idea why he even liked the guy.

When they ran out of beer they walked to the little convenience store a quarter mile down the road and Dean’s fake I.D. was good enough for him to walk out with a six-pack of Miller. Instead of going back to the motel they walked down Main St. and sat under the trees in the town park, smoking and drinking and talking about school and girls and fathers and all the places they’d been. Like Dean, Caleb had been on the road for most of his life, but for a whole different reason.

Or maybe not.

“It’s all about fightin' evil and savin' people, Dean,” Caleb said. “You think my daddy doesn’t hunt down demons just the same as yours? Cuz I think your daddy saves souls, same’s mine.”

Dean had been to a lot of the places Caleb had, but Caleb had hardly been out of the South. Dean was telling him about the time he and his Dad drove all the way across the country and back in six days when he fell silent, suddenly feeling like he was talking too much.

“Why’d you stop?” Caleb asked. They were laying on their backs on the grass, staring up at the dark sky. “Go on.”

“You don’t talk much. Seems like I’m talking a lot,” murmured Dean. Funny, that was not a thing he worried about – ever – but he couldn’t help it, he felt self-conscious.

“That’s okay,” Caleb said. “I like listenin' to you.” His hand brushed Dean’s arm then over his chest and stomach before falling away. Dean’s heart beat _thu-thump_ against his ribcage and goosebumps sprang up on suddenly hot skin.

 _Oh, hell no_ , thought Dean. He knew that feeling. He got that feeling around girls, certain girls, certain very hot girls. Not around guys. No fucking way.

He sat up quickly and lit a cigarette, or tried to, but his hands were shaking and it was breezy and his lighter kept going out.

“Here,” said Caleb, rolling up to his knees and taking the lighter from him, leaning close to block the wind and cupping his palm around the flame, and as Dean steadied his hand on Caleb’s, he felt it again, heat, cold, goosebumps, _thu-thump_. He closed his eyes for a second and when he opened them Caleb was still right there, right close to him, his eyes silver in the moonlight, that lock of hair falling over his forehead again and for an instant their gazes locked and Dean felt something strange and electric stir the air between them. Caleb licked his lips and Dean felt everything freeze as he leaned the tiniest bit closer, his eyes focusing on Dean’s mouth and then he seemed to catch himself and backed off and Dean took a drag of his smoke, barely tasting it but grateful to have something to do with his hands.

Caleb dropped back onto the grass and put his hands behind his head. His t-shirt rode up, showing a thin strip of skin and the sharp jut of a hipbone. Dean stared for a minute too long, then forced his eyes to Caleb’s face. In the moonlight he looked placid but Dean could tell he wasn’t really watching the stars. His eyes were moving around and he was blinking too much.

“You ever feel like –” Caleb’s voice was low and kind of breathless and Dean had to strain to hear. “Like you don’t even know what people mean when they talk about normal? Like – like you just don’t even know what normal _is_?”

Dean chuckled. “All the time, man. Story of my life.” Caleb turned his head so he could look at Dean. His eyes looked soft and dark and his skin was smooth and so pale and Dean was filled with the desire to touch his cheekbone with the tips of his fingers. They tingled with the urge, but he tried to ignore it. “Hey, your life’s a hell of a lot more normal than mine, if that makes you feel any better.” Caleb had grown up with two parents and family around him, and even if he’d lived on the road when he was younger, now he’d been going to the same high school for two years and only traveling the circuit in the summers. Sure it was some freaky Christian high school, but still, it was something more stable than switching schools every few months. Dean would love for Sam to have been able to have that.

“You don’t know what my life’s like,” Caleb said. “There’s nothin’ normal about it.” And still he lay there on his back, looking up at Dean with his too-direct gaze.

“You’ve got your brothers, your parents,” said Dean. “Family can get you through anything.” He looked down to where his fingers were plucking at strands of grass. “I’ve got a brother. Little younger than you.”

“Yeah?” Caleb rolled up onto his side, propping his head on his hand. “Is he like you?”

“He’s the opposite of me,” said Dean. “I’m more like –” He was going to say “my dad”, but he realized that was wrong. Sam was a lot more like their dad than he was.

“Dean?”

“Nothing. Never mind. We should head back before our dads get back.” He had no idea what time it was. Late, or early more likely.

They got to their feet. Dean swayed slightly as the ground tilted beneath him. He must be drunker than he thought. Caleb was conscientiously picking up beer bottles and cigarette butts, and putting them all in the bag the six-pack had been in. On the way out of the park he dropped it in a trash can.

The motel room smelled like pizza and the TV was still on. Caleb hovered near the door again in that awkward way he had.

“Sit,” said Dean. “You’re making me nervous.”

“D’you think I could use your shower?” Caleb asked. “It’s just that there’s five of us all sharin' a house with the pastor’s family, and there’s hardly ever enough hot water,” he explained hastily when Dean looked at him in surprise.

“Sure,” he said, “Help yourself.”

Caleb ducked his head like he was embarrassed. “Thanks.” A minute later Dean heard the water turn on. He lay on the bed, clicking through channels and trying not to think about Caleb naked in the shower, because dammit that was fucking wrong and he was nearly as young as Sam and a preacher’s kid to boot and Dean was just starting to realize that he was screwed up in so many ways it wasn’t even funny.

It was thirty minutes before Caleb came out of the bathroom dressed in his jeans and t-shirt again and flopped on the other bed, smelling of motel soap and Dean’s shampoo, his hair laying in dark streaks across his forehead.

“That was great,” he sighed, stretching luxuriously. “I can’t even remember the last time I had such an amazing shower.”

Dean grunted noncommittally, keeping his eyes on the TV. Caleb rolled onto his side facing Dean and he could feel him watching, feel his eyes burning into the side of his face, feel him willing Dean to turn and look at him, but he didn’t, he kept his eyes focused on the screen. He wasn’t following the show, he was just not looking at Caleb.

“Dean,” Caleb whispered, even though there really wasn’t any reason why he should.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Dean turned to look at him then. “For what?”

“For the shower. And the pizza. And letting me hang out with you and everything.”

“Sure,” said Dean. “Anytime.”

Dean turned the sound down, watched until the next commercial and when he looked over, Caleb was asleep, his face smoothed out, his pretty, pouty lips slightly parted. Dean swallowed and took a deep breath, turned off the TV and the light and lay down on his side, facing in the other direction.

Dean woke with a start to the feeling of something soft stroking his cheek and before he had time to think he’d grabbed Caleb’s wrist, his other hand automatically reaching beneath his pillow.

“It’s okay,” Caleb whispered. Dean stared up at him in shock. Caleb was leaning over him, so close that he could feel his breath warm on his face. “They’re back.” Dean became aware of the sound car doors and voices, his dad and Leon, outside in the parking lot, and then he wasn’t aware of anything but Caleb’s lips soft and full against his. He was so stunned he didn’t even react, didn’t push him away like he should have, didn’t pull him closer like he wanted to and then Caleb’s lips pressed harder on his and he realized that this was it, that in two seconds their dads were going to walk through that door and he might never see Caleb again and so he kissed him back, grabbed his shoulders and pulled him close and let his mouth open. Caleb shivered when their tongues met and Dean made a helpless little noise and prayed that his dad would come in before this went too far and _oh god_ , as Caleb’s hand slipped underneath his t-shirt rubbing frantically at his chest, then down to his crotch, squeezing Dean’s erection through his jeans. Dean gasped, his hips thrusting once and then the voices were suddenly nearer and Caleb was back on the other bed before Dean knew what was happening, laying there and staring at Dean out of huge eyes, his breath coming fast and Dean stared back, his heart beating a quick, panicked _thu-thump, thu-thump_ loudly in his ears.

The door opened and the second John flipped on the light Dean shut his eyes and he knew Caleb had done the same.

“Sorry,” John mumbled when Dean grumbled in protest.

“Wake up, son,” Leon said, shaking Caleb’s shoulder. “Time to go.” Caleb sat up, feigning sleepiness. A flawless act, Dean thought as he watched through half-closed eyes, maintaining his own pretense of having just been unhappily awakened.

Leon shook John’s hand, said some things in a quiet voice that Dean couldn’t hear, then put his arm around Caleb’s shoulders and steered him toward the door. At the last minute Caleb turned and looked at Dean like he wanted to say something and their eyes locked for the briefest moment and there was something intense and desperate that passed between them and then he was gone and John was shutting the door behind them.

“Well, it took the whole damn night, but we got it pried loose,” John said, switching off the overhead light and heading into the bathroom. “Sent the sonofabitch back to hell where it belongs.”

“And the girl?” Dean asked automatically, still staring at the door, still seeing that look on Caleb’s face.

“She’ll be okay – probably. You know how it is.” He did know. Possession fucked people up. If they managed to survive it physically there was never any guarantee that they’d be able to deal with the leavings that the demon sloughed off while inhabiting their bodies. It all depended on the demon in question, and the person, and mostly, on luck.

John ran his hand through his hair and sighed deeply. “She’ll be okay after years of therapy.” It was an old joke, and a poor one, but every time, one of them said it. “I’m gonna take a shower, then I’m gonna sleep a few hours. Then we’ll head home.”

“Today?” Dean said, his heart sinking.

“Yep. Job’s done. Got no reason to stay.”

Dean lay awake and watched the rising sun lighten the room. He was so fucking confused he couldn’t tell which way was up. He’d kissed a guy, he’d let a guy touch his dick, he’d wanted it, he’d wanted _more_. He was so, so fucked. All he knew for sure was that he didn’t want to go, he’d give anything for just one more day, just so he could see Caleb one more time and figure out what the hell was going on between them.

Maybe it was better this way, he tried to tell himself. Maybe it was better to leave before he – before _they_ – did something that they’d both be sorry about, because if he did stay then he was pretty sure he'd do something that would make him very, very sorry, and fuck, Caleb was still a kid and it was just wrong on so many levels. It _had_ to be better this way - to not know what might have happened.

~*~

They’d been on the road for four hours when John’s phone rang.

“Leon?” he said, and Dean turned to see John scowling, his face gone heavy and still in such a way that Dean instantly knew something was wrong. “Okay, okay,” he said. “Don’t do anything ‘til I get there. No! Do not – Leon! Do not do _anything_. We’re turning around now. I’ll call you when we get to town. Should be sometime around eight.”

“What happened?” Dean asked. He already knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.

John pulled to the right, made a fast u-turn. “Your little friend Caleb disappeared sometime this morning. They thought he’d just snuck off. I guess he does that sometimes, according to Leon. But then his brother found sulfur –”

“No,” Dean breathed the word, his stomach turning.

“Yeah. They hadn’t seen it at first cuz they’d all thought he’d been asleep in his room after he and Leon got back, and that he’d just snuck out from there. But his bed hadn’t been slept in and then his brother checked in some shed out in the backyard. Turns out the kid goes out there to smoke. Anyway, sulfur all over the place and no sign of Caleb.”

Dean couldn’t breathe. Caleb had been out there alone because he couldn’t sleep – because of Dean, because of what they’d done. He was probably upset and stressed out – he was probably freaking, his mind and emotions opened up wide for a demon to just waltz right in. And now it had him and god knows what it was going to do to him. Dean felt a wave of panicky protectiveness wash over him the like of which he’d only ever felt for Sam.

 _It had no right, no fucking right_. He was going to get Caleb back if it killed him.

“We’ve gotta find him,” Dean said, his voice coming out hoarse.

“We will. Don’t worry, we’ll bring him back.” But Dean knew the words were hollow. It wasn’t that easy to catch a demon and there wasn’t any guarantee that even if they did catch it, it wouldn’t have already hurt Caleb so badly that he wouldn't be able to survive if they managed to dislodge it.

It was a long four hours back to town. Dean drove partway, which at least gave him something to do rather than just staring out the window and trying not to think about Caleb’s body bloody and broken and possessed and Caleb’s mind warped and twisted and shredded. If only he hadn’t let anything happen between them, then maybe Caleb wouldn’t have felt the need to hide out all alone and maybe it wouldn’t have happened, and Dean knew that was bullshit because if a demon wanted Caleb it would take him no matter where he was, but somehow it seemed like it _had_ to be Dean’s fault, like Caleb was being punished because of what Dean had done. It was just too big a fucking coincidence that there were _two_ demons in the same little nowhere town. This time it had to be aimed at Leon and his family, in which case it wasn’t just some random possession and that meant that it was likely that the demon might still be around, and that was good. But it also seemed likely that it might have some kind of plan and that was bad, especially since the plan seemed to revolve around Caleb.

John called Leon when they were about a half hour out. They drove straight to the pastor's house, where the Followills were staying. Leon took John and Dean out back and showed them the shed, tucked away in a little copse of apple trees and hidden from view of the house. There were cigarette butts in the dirt in front of it – Camel Straights, Dean noted – and when they went inside they found sulfur near the door and window.

“I didn’t even know he smoked,” Leon muttered, staring hollowly at the butts on the ground. “Dumb kid.”

“Okay,” said John, rubbing his face. “We exorcise one demon last night and today we’ve got another one in the same town. And it takes the son of the guy who’s been after it. Seems pretty clear this possession aimed to hit you where you live, Leon. I’d say our demon has a friend, which means it’s probably still here.” He gave Leon a hard look. “And it probably has plans for you – or for your family. You should leave – all of you.”

“I’m not leaving,” said Leon, shaking his head firmly. “Not without Caleb.”

“I’m not leaving either,” said the oldest brother, the one who played the drums. Nathan, Dean remembered Caleb telling him. Nathan crossed his arms and planted himself like an immovable object. If it hadn’t been such a deadly serious situation Dean would have smiled in recognition.

John sighed. Dean knew how he hated this, when civilians got involved. So did he, but he could understand it too. If it had been Sam who had been possessed, Dean knew that he would’ve been standing right there like Nathan was, arms crossed and a damned stubborn look on his face.

In the end, Mrs. Followill and Jared, the youngest brother, ended up leaving with the pastor’s family, all of them going to stay with some relatives the next county over. Nathan and Leon were convinced to remain at the house, since it was the easiest place to defend. They salted down the doors and windows and concealed devil’s traps just about everywhere they could and John left them with a good supply of holy water and when Dean looked back into the living room as he closed the door behind him they were both already on their knees, heads bowed.

John stopped halfway down the walk. “I don’t like leaving them.”

“I know,” said Dean.

“I think it’s coming for Leon.”

“That’s fu- messed up, man.” Dean shuddered to think that Caleb was to be the instrument the demon had chosen to destroy his family, if that was indeed what it had planned. “If that's the case, then you should stay.”

“I don’t want you going out there on your own,” John said.

“It doesn’t want me, Dad. And you know it’s not gonna show up at the tent. I’ll go out there and check around, paint a couple devil’s traps on the canvas just in case and wait around for a bit to be sure. You call me the second something happens.” He knew damn well that it usually wasn’t possible to call, but it was just the sort of thing they said, as if _this_ time they’d be able to take a minute to make a phone call once things got rolling.

He took the Impala, drove the empty roads to the revival tent, not passing another car the whole way. It was quiet out there on the edge of town, just the sounds of frogs croaking down in the creek and a dog barking in the distance. The parking area was lit by a couple of lights up on tall poles, but beyond their reach the darkness pressed in on all sides. It gave him the creeps to be there on his own, but he really didn’t expect that this would be the place the demon would choose to show up, so he tried to push that eerie feeling to the back of his mind. He untied the tent flaps and made his way into the interior, shining his flashlight around. Nothing out of place, everything fine. He had paint and holy water and the Roman Ritual with him, but it looked like he wasn't going to need any of it.

He called John. “Hey, Dad. Everything’s quiet here. Nothing there either? Okay, so I guess we just –”

And that was when his phone went dead.

He heard the lights outside fizzle and pop and then he inhaled the unmistakable stench of rotten eggs and he barely had time to process what that meant before the lights inside the tent suddenly blazed to life, blinding him.

“Fuck!” He flung an arm up over his eyes, squinting and blinking, barely able to make out a dark figure at the entrance, standing silhouetted against the lesser darkness outside. His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was about to burst through his chest and he had the holy water in his hand but that wouldn’t slow it down much and the Ritual, but he hadn’t even had a chance to paint a devil’s trap and without being able to trap it he was well and truly fucked.

“Hello, Dean.” Caleb’s voice but not Caleb’s inflection. His skin pricked up into goosebumps.

He tried to calm himself enough to think. What could he do? His gun was useless against a demon and that didn’t matter anyway because he wasn’t about to shoot Caleb. Goddammit, what was it doing here? It was supposed to have shown up at the house, gone after Leon.

“Surprised to see me?” Caleb smiled and it made something twist in Dean’s stomach, because he had never seen Caleb smile, and now to see it like this made him feel sick. “I know you missed me,” he purred. “You wanted to see me again, didn’t you?” Caleb was advancing on him, slow steps and Dean tried to hold his ground, but he couldn’t help taking a faltering step back. “After you kissed me like that, so hot and passionate. You’re a good kisser, Dean.” Caleb’s tongue licked along his bottom lip, overtly sexual. “I _liked_ it. Made me so hard. I jerked off afterward, thinking about your pretty mouth. I _really_ wanted to see you again. So nice that we could both make time in our busy schedules.”

“What are you doing here?” Dean said hoarsely, more to make it shut up about that kiss than anything else.

“Weren’t you listening?” Caleb pouted, which pissed Dean the hell off, because Caleb was not the kind of guy who pouted. “I _missed_ you, Dean. We were so rudely interrupted last time. This time,” he held up his hand and Dean was sudden frozen to the spot, unable to lift his feet from the ground. The holy water and the book fell from his hand. “We have the whole night to ourselves.”

Caleb approached, his walk more of a sexual prowl – again so wrong – until he was standing right in front of Dean. It looked so much like him – it _was_ him, Dean reminded himself. He was in there, somewhere. Whatever he did, he couldn’t hurt that body. When the demon was gone, he needed Caleb to be okay.

“Drop the bullshit,” said Dean, making his voice steady. “What do you want with me?”

“I’ll tell you, Dean,” Caleb mused. “You had it all wrong. You and John thought I was after Leon – well, I am in a way. But I’ve got everything I need right here.” He reached up to Dean’s chin and slid his hand along his jaw, cradling his face. Dean’s shudder had to be at the thought of that touch being from a demon, because it didn’t feel supernatural at all. It felt like Caleb’s hand, warm and rough and not at all tentative. He could even feel the calluses on his guitar-playing fingers. “You and me, Dean. That’s all I need.”

Dean didn’t say anything. He knew the demon would tell him. Demons liked to talk.

“You see,” the demon’s voice suddenly was hard. It blinked and its eyes turned black. “That little exorcism you boys’ daddies performed last night? That was my son, Dean. And they sent him to _Hell_.” Dean felt his blood run cold as he finally started to see the whole picture. “I’d like nothing more than to send the two of you screaming down into the pit, but I can’t do that.” He blinked and his eyes were gray-blue again. He shook his head in exasperation. “ _Rules_. They really get in the way, don’t’ they?” He sighed. “So, I guess I’ll just have to make this night a special little hell on earth, and we’ll see how your daddies feel when they find what’s left of you tomorrow.”

Dean’s pulse raced. Every muscle in his body was straining against the invisible bonds keeping him still, to no avail. _Fuck._ This was bad. He’d walked right into the trap, no backup, no way out. He prayed that John had figured out that something was up when the phone cut out, but there was no way of knowing for sure.

“You can’t kill him,” he said, knowing no demon would make that kind of sacrifice just to get a bit of revenge.

“No,” Caleb admitted. “But I can break him. And I can use you to do it. And maybe, if it all plays out right, I can get his daddy to pitch in some too.”

“You fucker!” Dean grit out, but Caleb only laughed. He trailed a finger over Dean’s collarbone, stroked lightly over the hollow of his throat. Dean swallowed convulsively.

“Sticks and stones, Dean,” he murmured.

The demon was just looking at him out of Caleb’s eyes and touching him ever so gently. It made shivers of revulsion crawl over his skin and a cold fist of fear clench in his stomach and to his horror it also made a slow, flickering flame of desire flare down low. Suddenly Caleb was right up against him, hands combing through his hair and his mouth hot and open on Dean’s. It was the demon kissing him but Caleb’s lips and it still felt good, too good. Caleb made a little noise and pressed against him, his arms going around Dean’s neck. He felt solid and real and somehow familiar even though there was no reason he should. His tongue entered Dean’s mouth and he knew he should clench his teeth against it, or better yet, bite him, but he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t hurt him and he couldn’t even close him out, he just let him in to take whatever he would. When he finally pulled back, Caleb’s face was flushed and his eyes were dark and a little amused.

“Oh, Dean,” he sighed, rocking his hips against Dean’s thigh so that he could feel how hard he was. “This body wants you.” Dean wanted to say that Caleb was just a kid, that he didn’t know what the hell he wanted yet, but he knew the demon wouldn’t care so he said nothing.

“And you want him,” Caleb whispered. “ _So much_. Oh, I know you were going to be a good boy, be the self-denying martyr – you do like that role – but it turns out you don’t have to be. Caleb – he’s young, but he’s got the soul of a whore, and he’s got a big ol’ hard-on for you, Dean. I think maybe it’d be nice if you’d help him out with that.”

“Fuck you,” said Dean.

“Exactly what I had in mind,” replied Caleb with a knowing smirk. “I hadn’t expected you to be so quick on the uptake. The word going ‘round is that you’re pretty dense and it’s your baby brother who’s got all the smarts in the family.”

Dean tried to repress the panic that gripped him when he realized what the demon intended.

“I didn’t realize demons were such gossips.” He needed to keep it talking, buy some time. Maybe he could figure something out, maybe John would get there.

“Oh, we’re _terrible_ gossips! We love to dish on our hunter friends.” Caleb leaned in, his lips lightly brushing Dean’s ear. “We know all about you, Dean, and about Sammy and John. Your whole tragic family saga. It makes us cry – from laughter, of course.” Caleb licked his ear, light and soft along the outer edge of it. “Dean Winchester, tortured soul, loaded up with guilt and failure and resentment. What a mess you are, Dean. Resenting your dad, resenting Sam. Sam would outgrow you, you know, if you were to live beyond tonight. He’d leave you, go away to a better life and never look back.” Caleb tipped his head down and looked up at Dean, making an exaggerated pout. “That would make you so sad, wouldn’t it? Maybe it’s better if you don’t live to see it.”

“You shut up about my brother,” Dean growled, rage filling him. God, if he could only move, he’d kill that thing with his bare hands.

Caleb turned away and strode jauntily up the aisle toward the stage. “But before the carnage, I think we’ll have a little fun, you and me.” He bounded up the steps onto the stage and turned, making a little ‘come here’ motion with his hand and Dean found himself moving forward against his will, climbing the stairs and coming to a stop in the middle of the pulpit.

Caleb turned to him with a smile and stripped off his shirt. “I can’t wait to hear what John will say when he finds you.” He toed off his sneakers then pulled off his socks, shoved his pants down over his narrow hips and kicked them aside, standing there naked in front of Dean. He caught a glimpse of Caleb’s hard-on, but studiously avoided looking at it directly, keeping his eyes on Caleb's face.

“You think your dad ever saw _Heathers_? I really love that movie.” He moved closer and pushed Dean’s t-shirt up and leaned in to lick his chest, circling a nipple until it stiffened. “’I love my dead gay son’, remember that line? Now _that_ was a funny scene.” He licked around the other nipple the same way. “Oh, I’d love it if he’d say something like that, but since he’s a Winchester I guess he’ll probably just be stoically morose and shed silent, manly tears.” He sucked on Dean’s nipple, sucked hard and used his teeth and Dean squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of something else, something that would kill the arousal that was blooming from that spot and spreading in a slow burn throughout his body.

“You know I could just make you want it,” Caleb whispered, his eyes sparkling lasciviously. His tongue laved soothingly back and forth over the hard nub and Dean bit back on a moan. “But this is way more fun, don’t you think?”

“I’m gonna kill you,” Dean breathed through clenched teeth, as Caleb’s fingers worked his fly open and slid inside, taking hold of his cock and stroking slowly. Dean knew it was sick and wrong, he knew it wasn’t Caleb, but his body responded to the stimulation anyway, his cock stiffening in Caleb’s hand.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Caleb murmured, looking up at Dean, his eyes full of desire. “You wouldn’t hurt me, would you, Dean?” He pulled Dean’s cock out and looked down at it. “Or maybe you would. You’ve got a nice, big cock, but then that doesn’t surprise me. You’ve made quite a reputation for yourself as a lady’s man despite being so young. ‘Course, now we’ll have to revise that a bit. Guess you’re a man’s man too.” He pumped and stroked and Dean was torn between nausea at being used like this by a demon and the lust that was coursing through his body. “Caleb’s a virgin. Never been touched.” He smiled at Dean. “Aren’t you the lucky one? You get to be first.” He squeezed Dean’s shaft. “Gonna hurt him though, poor baby. No lube.” Caleb made sad face. “Hope you don’t tear him up too much, Dean. Though I think he might like it rough.”

 _Goddammit_. Dean’s mind rebelled against what he was hearing. _No_. No way would he do that to Caleb, except he knew he couldn’t stop it. The fucking demon was going to turn him into a rapist and if that wasn’t fucked-up enough, the demon was gonna be raping him too and he couldn’t stand this, he just couldn’t. His eyes filled with tears, but he blinked them back. He was not gonna let the sonofabitch see him cry.

“Do it the other way.” Maybe he could convince the demon to at least switch it around. “It was my dad who did the exorcism, not Leon. I should be the one taking it up the ass, if you really want to get your revenge right.”

“Nice try, Dean,” Caleb smirked. “I get my revenge either way, and this way you get to feel guilty about it for the rest of your regrettably very short life. Anyway, Caleb really wants to take it for you and he’s given me such a cute little body to play in, the least I can do for him is give the boy something he wants.”

Without warning, Caleb dropped to his knees in front of him. “No!” cried Dean. “Fuck, no!” He tried to push him away, tried with every ounce of strength in his body and all he managed to accomplish was moving his hand to Caleb’s head and pushing weakly at him.

“Ooh, strong,” Caleb cooed, looking up at Dean with a little smile. “I’m impressed.” And then his tongue flicked out and he licked the tip of Dean’s cock. Dean closed his eyes and tried to think about something – anything – else, but it was impossible to ignore the fluid glide of tongue over the head of his dick and the filthy, lustful noises coming out of Caleb’s mouth, vibrating exquisitely along his length. Dean tried to push him away again, but all he managed was a twitch of his fingers in Caleb’s hair. He stifled a tremor as Caleb chuckled throatily, then slid his mouth down over Dean’s cock. Hot, tight, wet, unbelievable suction and Caleb might be a virgin but the demon clearly was not and _ohmygod_. Dean threw his head back as Caleb took him in all the way, until his nose was pressed to Dean’s pubic bone, and tried with all his might not to thrust, because, yeah, the demon wanted him to do that, had him by the hips, trying to make him rock forward, bury himself even deeper and fuck Caleb’s throat. His breath hitched and he felt like he was going to pass out because he would not give the demon the satisfaction of hearing him moan and pant. Stars danced on the back of his eyelids and his whole body trembled with the strain of staying silent and holding himself still.

Caleb slowly drew back, sucking the whole way, and it felt like he was trying to suck Dean’s insides out through his cock. It popped free with a lewd slurp and Dean gasped, the sudden relief overwhelming, almost as overwhelming as the desire to shove his cock past those swollen, reddened lips, right back where it belonged. He breathed deeply, trying to get ahold of himself.

“You’ve gotta learn to relax and enjoy yourself more, Dean,” Caleb said with an annoyed scowl. “You keep fighting so hard, you just might hurt yourself.” And then he caught Dean up around his middle, taking him completely by surprise, and flung him down onto the floor on his back. He skidded, banging into the lectern, knocking it off the stage, arms and legs flailing as he tried to right himself.

“But you’re gonna enjoy _this_ , I promise you.”

Caleb stalked towards him and all he could do was skitter ineffectually backwards, his eyes widening at the evil and predatory smile on his face as he launched himself forward onto Dean. Mid-pounce Caleb seemed to slam into a brick wall, all forward momentum stopping in an instant as he dropped like a stone. Dean hadn’t the faintest idea what had just happened but he didn’t stop to figure it out, he just scrambled to his feet and ran, looking back when he was halfway down the aisle of the tent as a scream of terrible rage rent the air.

Caleb was flinging himself against some kind of invisible barrier again and again, unable to break out, cursing Dean with every foul word in existence. Dean’s mind ran through the possibilities of what might be going on but there was only one thing that he knew of that worked like that – a devil’s trap – and he hadn’t had time to draw any. He was torn between grabbing the Ritual and starting an exorcism and getting the hell out of there before the demon figured out a way to escape.

It took him only a second to decide, just long enough to tuck himself in and zip up. He had to do the exorcism if there was any chance of saving Caleb and from the look of things the longer he waited, the more likely it was that the demon was going to beat Caleb’s body to a pulp just throwing itself around like that.

He grabbed the book and the holy water from where he’d dropped them and started back toward the stage. He wasn’t sure where the boundary of the demon’s confinement ended, so he remained at the bottom of the stairs. Caleb stopped screaming and cursing and hurling himself against that invisible wall and stood watching him, his chest heaving. He was dirty and bruised and he had a few scrapes, but otherwise he looked unhurt. His eyes were wild though, fearful and feral.

“Wait!” he cried. “Think about it, Dean. You can have anything. I can get you anything you want. You want this boy?” He spread his arms, putting Caleb's body on display. “You can have him, as often as you want. You know if you go through with this he’ll never look at you again. You’ll disgust him – he’ll never –”

“Shut up,” he snapped. “You should be happy. You’ll be seeing that son of yours again real soon.”

“You think this is it?” Caleb spat. "This is just the _beginning_. We’re saving a special corner of Hell for you Winchesters.” He nodded grimly. “That’s right, Dean, all of you. And when you get there, I’ll be waiting for you.”

Dean just took a breath and opened the book.

_"Regno terrae cantate Deo, soli te Domino..."_

He heard a noise behind him, turned to see John and Leon dashing through the entrance then skidding to a halt when they took in the sight before them. Dean didn’t wait for the inevitable questions, he just turned back to Caleb and continued with the Ritual. He’d never done an exorcism himself, but he’d practiced the Latin and he’d seen John do it. He didn’t allow the possibility that it might not work to take root in his mind, he just spoke the words as he’d learned them in a clear, steady voice, totally focused on getting it right, ignoring Caleb who was now shrieking and moaning and writhing on the ground and the men behind him who he could feel practically breathing down his neck.

Then, suddenly, it was over. He spoke the last words, _"Exert tua virtute et fortitudinem levi sue benedectis deus gloria patri"_ , and a deafening sound rent the night and a dense, roiling column of black smoke poured from Caleb’s mouth up to the top of the tent, then abruptly shot down into the ground and was gone.

Leon rushed up the steps and gathered Caleb into his arms, holding him close, muttering what Dean knew must be a prayer. Caleb was unconscious and deathly pale but Leon looked up at them with relief.

“He’s breathing.”

Dean went down then, his legs folding beneath him as if they were made of rubber, the book falling from his nerveless fingers. John crouched beside him, his arm strong around Dean and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning into it and laying his head on John’s shoulder.

“What the hell happened?” he said into John’s coat. “It was trapped, but it wasn’t me. I didn’t even have a chance –”

“Devil’s trap under the stage,” Leon said, slapping it with his palm. “It’s painted on the underside.” Dean lifted his head and stared at him, stunned.

“You have a devil’s trap painted under your _pulpit_?” John asked, his voice telegraphing his disbelief.

“What? Pastor Jim showed me. Said that demons’ flair for the dramatic meant they’d always go for the stage or the altar. So I painted it there ages ago, just in case.”

“Jesus,” Dean whispered. “Talk about luck.”

“It’s gonna be okay, son,” John said gruffly. “You boys are gonna be fine.” Dean nodded, even though he wasn’t so sure of that. What if Caleb remembered? He felt a lump in his throat and swallowed it down. God, he hoped he didn’t remember.

“We’ve got to get him to a hospital,” said Leon, lifting Caleb and hurrying toward the door of the tent. He looked so small and fragile in Leon’s arms. Dean felt another wave of panic. What if the demon had done something to him between the time he disappeared and when he found Dean? There were hours of unaccounted time. He staggered to his feet and John wrapped an arm around his waist, helping him walk.

“Dean,” he said in a low voice in Dean’s ear. “What happened here, son? Why’s Caleb naked?”

Dean’s heart skipped a beat. “Don’t ask that,” he pleaded, shaking his head. “Please. It – it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, Dad. He’s – he’s not hurt, okay? I didn’t hurt him.”

“Okay,” John said quietly, tightening his arm around Dean’s waist. “I believe you. Let’s just get him taken care of.”

They waited around at the hospital to find out how Caleb was. Dean sat in the waiting room, elbows on his knees, head hanging down. He was sick and exhausted and so full of guilt and self-loathing that he thought he might puke.

John and Leon had made up some kind of story about what’d happened to bang Caleb up so badly. Dean hadn’t even paid attention, he’d just collapsed onto a chair and tried to hide how much he was shaking. After a while John sat down beside him. Dean wished he’d put an arm around him again like he’d done in the tent, but that wasn’t his way. John had done his bit of comforting and Dean knew that was all he could expect.

“How is he?”

“They don’t know yet.” John looked at him seriously. “How are you?”

“I’ve been worse,” said Dean, which wasn’t strictly true.

“Dean, I’m asking you this once, and then I’m gonna drop it, but I want a straight answer about what happened back there. We don’t have to say anything to Leon – or Caleb – about it.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut. His head was pounding and his throat was parched and he just wanted to sleep for about ten years. “That demon you guys exorcised last night was – it said it was its ‘son’, whatever that means. It was gonna pay you back by fucking us up – me and Caleb. It was – twisted. If I’d known there was a devil’s trap – if I’d known – we were standing right on top of it the whole time.” His voice wavered. “I could have stopped it. The damned thing was trapped and I didn’t even know.”

Leon and Nathan were coming down the hall toward them and John got to his feet. Dean didn’t move. He felt numb except for the headache. He closed his eyes, his mind blanking.

“He’s gonna be okay.” John’s hand was on his shoulder. Dean didn’t react. “You hear that? Caleb’s gonna be fine.” Dean nodded, his head feeling heavy. “Okay,” sighed John. “Let’s get you to the motel and into bed.”

It was all a fog after that, nodding asleep in the car, waking when John pulled into the motel and got out to go get them a room, falling onto the bed and dimly feeling John pulling off his shoes and socks, pulling the blankets up over him. John’s hand on his forehead, his voice, deep and quiet, saying just what he longed to hear - _You did good, Son. You saved that boy_ \- only he knew it wasn’t true. As he sank down to unconsciousness his last thought was that he hoped to god that Caleb didn’t remember.

When he woke up it was noon and there was a note from John that he’d gone to see Leon. Dean rolled over and buried his face in the pillow, feeling wrecked. What was he supposed to do now? Pretend that it hadn’t happened? That he hadn’t been ready to fuck Caleb – to fuck a kid, a virgin, a demon? How was he supposed to live with that?

He dragged himself into the shower, pulled on some clothes, stumbled out into the sunlight in search of coffee. John found him in the diner, slid into the booth across from him.

“Well?” said Dean.

“Caleb’s conscious. They’re sending him home. Dean – he doesn’t remember.”

Dean sagged in relief. “Oh, thank god. Does he seem… okay?”

“See for yourself. He’s asking for you.”

Dean shook his head. “No. No, that’s not a good idea.” He stared out the window, biting his lip.

“Go see him, Dean. After what that kid went through… He really wants to see you.” John gave Dean a long, patient, unwavering look and he didn’t have to say the words for Dean to know that he was telling him to get over himself. If only it was that easy.

“I’m gonna have lunch and then I’ll head over to the motel. Just meet me back there when you’re done. Here.” He handed Dean the car keys. “We’ll leave when you get back.”

Dean sighed. John wasn’t giving him any choice in the matter. “Okay. I won’t be long.”

“Take as much time as you need, Son.”

Dean stopped at the motel first. There were some things he needed that were stowed in his bag. When he got to the pastor’s house, it was quiet but for Caleb’s little brother Jared sitting on the front porch. He gave Dean such a mistrustful look that he wasn’t sure if he’d let him in or not and if he didn’t that was probably okay, because Dean was nervous as hell. The desire to see Caleb with his own eyes just to be sure he really was okay and the desire to run as far and as fast as he could were just about equal at that moment, and all it would’ve taken was one word from Jared and he’d have been out of there so fast that all there'd be left to see was the dust that the Impala’s tires would kick up.

But in the end Jared stood up without a word and led Dean to a room at the back of the house, knocked and pushed the door open, then turned and went back out front. Caleb was propped up on some pillows, holding a Bible that he hurriedly tucked under the covers when he saw that it was Dean, as if he didn’t want him to know what he'd been reading.

His eyes were huge in his face and there were dark bruised-looking circles under them. There was a cut in the center of his bottom lip and a swelling on his chin and for a panicked moment all Dean could think is _did I do that?_. He couldn’t remember. Caleb was wearing a long-sleeved shirt so Dean couldn’t see how banged up the rest of him was, but his knuckles were scabbed over and several of his fingers were bandaged. Dean could remember him clawing at the floor as he’d been reading the Ritual – it must be from that.

“Hey,” Dean said, taking a seat in the chair pulled up beside the bed. It was okay, he told himself. Caleb didn’t remember a thing, he could just pretend like it had all gone smoothly. Caleb never needed to know what really happened.

“Hey.”

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like a demon set up housekeepin' in my head.” He rubbed his temples. At Dean’s worried expression he added, “No, it’s okay. It’s gone now, but I can feel that it was there. Like an echo.”

Dean nodded, looking at his hands. “It _is_ gone now, and it won’t be coming back. Not ever.”

“I know.”

They were silent for a moment.

“My dad said you wanted to see me.”

“I knew you’d be leavin' any minute now. I wanted to say thanks.” Caleb took a breath. “I wanted to see you before you go.”

Dean shook his head. If only Caleb knew, he wouldn’t be thanking him.

“We’re heading out as soon as I get back. My dad’s waiting for me. I can’t stay long.”

Caleb nodded, a frown creasing his forehead. He picked at the blanket with his bandaged fingers. “Dean –” His voice had dropped to almost a whisper. He looked up suddenly and met Dean’s eyes. “I remember.”

Dean’s mouth dropped open. He felt himself go pale. “I told them I didn’t,” Caleb continued, “because they’ll just worry if I tell them the truth. And there’d be a lot of extra prayin’ around here, and we’ve got enough of that as it is, and prayin’ won’t keep the demons away anyhow, we found that out. But I remember it.” He winced. “All of it.”

“Fuck,” Dean breathed. “I wish you didn’t. I really, _really_ wish you didn’t.”

“I know,” Caleb laughed humorlessly. “I wish I didn’t too. I just had to tell somebody, and you’re the only one I can tell. It feels like it left something inside me, Dean, some part of itself.”

“It couldn’t,” Dean said, leaning forward and speaking urgently, wanting to make Caleb believe him. “It all got sent to Hell, it couldn’t have left anything behind. You’re just feeling the residual demon-slime. It’ll go away, I promise.” He wasn’t really sure of that, but he made himself sound sure for Caleb’s sake.

Caleb was silent for a moment and when he spoke he stared fixedly at the blanket, his voice so low and broken that Dean had to lean forward to hear what he said.

“It said I have the soul of a – a whore.” Dean’s breath hitched. God, he'd give anything for Caleb not to have remembered. “What do you think it meant by that?”

“It didn’t mean anything,” Dean said angrily. “Demons lie. You can’t believe a word it said. You can’t let the stuff it said get to you, you can’t believe any of it for a second.”

“It said stuff that was true, Dean,” Caleb blurted, lifting his head. He looked like he was fighting tears. “A bunch of what it said was true, you know it was.”

“Caleb –”

“It was!”

“Well _that_ wasn’t, okay?! Jesus! You’re fifteen years old, you pray all the time, you live a good life, you never even – You don’t have the ‘soul of a whore’, whatever the fuck it meant by that. It was just trying to get to me, to fuck me up. Demons will mix truth in with the lies, sure, but that doesn’t mean you should believe what they say, _ever_ , you hear me?”

Caleb said nothing, just stared at the blanket again.

“I _said_ , do you hear me?” Dean demanded.

“Yeah, I hear you.” Caleb sounded tired and defeated and it made Dean’s heart ache.

“Here, I brought you something,” Dean said, reaching into the pocket of his jacket and pulling out three cassettes. “They’re my copies, so they’re used. I didn’t have time to get you new ones.” He handed them to Caleb. They were his favorites, the ones he couldn’t live without. “Do you know these bands?” Caleb shook his head.

“This,” Dean pointed to _Led Zeppelin IV_ , “is maybe the best album of all time. And these,” indicating _Metallica_ and _Back in Black_ , “are neck-and-neck for second place.”

“Thanks, Dean,” Caleb said in a hushed tone. He held the cassettes carefully, as though they might break.

“Don’t let your dad find them,” Dean warned, “cuz they’re about as far from gospel as you can get, and I’ve got a feeling he wouldn’t approve.”

“I won’t,” Caleb assured him. “I’ll keep ‘em hidden.”

“Okay,” Dean said, starting to get to his feet. “I should go.”

“No,” Caleb grabbed his arm. “Don’t. Not yet”

“I don’t know how you can even stand to look at me,” Dean said. “After what I – after what happened. You should _want_ me to go.”

“It’s not like that. You tried to save me – you _did_ save me. The stuff that happened wasn’t your fault. You tried to fight it, and that pissed the demon off, but I was glad of it.” Caleb swallowed and worried his cut lip with his teeth. “It was true, what it said. I did want you, I just didn’t want you like that.”

 _Oh god_. He did not need to hear that, not with Caleb laying there looking so hurt and scared that all Dean wanted was to take him in his arms and make everything better. “That can’t happen. You know that can’t happen.”

“I know,” Caleb whispered. “But…” He reached for Dean, his hand going behind Dean’s head to pull him forward.

“Caleb,” Dean said, resisting. Caleb gripped his wrist with surprising strength, keeping him from moving away.

“Please. Please, I just. I need this.” His eyes were wide and desperate and Dean fell into them, feeling like he was drowning. “Just kiss me, Dean, please. I don’t want it to be the demon that got that from you last. Just – please.”

Dean gazed at him for a long moment, feeling his resolve weakening. He still wanted him, after everything, in spite of everything. He still felt it between them, that strange, tenuous connection that he’d first felt behind the revival tent, though now it was something more, something strong and deep and wild, something that was too frightening to think about, so he didn’t, he pushed it to the back of his mind and just focused on the here and now.

He shifted onto the bed and took Caleb’s face in his hands. “Okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay.” And then he kissed him, a real kiss, not a hurried, furtive mashing of lips or the filthy oral rutting of the demon. Dean kissed him slow and sweet, with light, whispered brushes of his lips that gradually deepened to mouths sliding softly against each other then deepened again as desire filled him and he pressed Caleb back against the pillows and coaxed him open with teasing swipes of his tongue over his full bottom lip, licking over the cut again and again until Caleb moaned long and low.

It filled Dean with a kind of passionate tenderness that he’d never admit to anyone, to feel Caleb trembling in his arms, clinging to him, to feel the hunger in his kiss. It was Caleb’s tongue that touched his first but his that invaded Caleb’s mouth, searching, tasting, exploring. Caleb’s fingers dug into his back, and for a second Dean worried that he’d hurt himself, but then the feeling of Caleb’s tongue twining and dancing with his pushed everything else out of his mind. Dean shifted closer, being careful not to hurt him, until Caleb’s body was pressed tightly to his, his hand cradling his head as he plundered his mouth, deeper and deeper. It was perfect, it was delicious, hot and silky and wet, tasting of something sweet and salty that Dean couldn’t quite place. Caleb was making quiet, breathless noises and arching up even closer and Dean wanted him so badly it hurt. But he made himself gentle the kiss and pull back slowly, pausing to lick over the split lip. The cut had opened again, a thin line of red against the swollen pink flesh, tasting of copper. When Dean licked over it a second time Caleb’s mouth went slack with a little tremor and they both moaned. He looked at Dean out of dark, heavy-lidded eyes, his face flushed, his breath coming fast and it was all Dean could do not to go in for another kiss.

“You’re going to be okay,” he said, brushing that errant lock of hair out of Caleb’s face.

Caleb nodded, silent, his eyes full of all the things he wasn’t saying.

“I have to go.” Dean hesitated, looking at Caleb, wishing he could stay but knowing it was pointless, wondering what else to say and realizing that there really wasn’t anything that could make things any better or any different and that delaying wasn’t going to do either of them any good, so he brushed his fingertips over Caleb’s forehead one more time and got to his feet.

He didn’t say good-bye, didn’t say anything, he just gave Caleb one last, lingering look and then he turned and walked out the door.


End file.
